


The Neighbor

by Caretaker



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caretaker/pseuds/Caretaker
Summary: An introverted shut-in finds John Smith standing in her living room.





	1. Chapter 1

Once she figured out how to have everything delivered and to pay all her bills online, she never left the house. The farthest away she'd go was to her mailbox and she always felt exposed when she did.

He lived in the house across the road. Sometimes she'd stand next to her window and peek out at him from the gap between the side of her Venetian blinds and the window. She certainly didn't want him to know she was staring at him like some kind of stalker. He parked his car, a Mercedes, on the street in front of his house instead of in the back like most of her other neighbors did. She'd watch him unfold out of the driver's seat. He was tall and thin with gleaming silver hair and was always nicely dressed in a linen frock coat, a bit threadbare, the kind that was coming back into fashion these days, and a crisp white shirt, buttoned all the way up, with French cuffs left undone, and no tie. His pants were almost stovepipe, tight, a bit revealing, also a modern fashion choice. 

He lived a quiet life, not as quiet as hers, though: sometimes he'd bring home guests and she'd feel a pang of jealousy when she heard them talking in the yard. He had a lovely Glaswegian accent and a distinctive voice. He never stayed outside for any length of time; he probably didn't much like the sun, with his pale skin.

One day when she was watching he turned and stared in her direction and she felt her stomach drop. She hadn't even moved a slat of her bind. Could he somehow see her? Did he know she was watching? After a moment that felt like forever, he turned and went into his house.

One day, after going out to get the mail, still in her pajamas, she came back into her house and went to her kitchen, planning to make a snack before going back to bed. She'd just put on the tea and turned around...

To find him standing in her living room.

She jumped and yelped, feeling her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

“H...how did you get in?” she tried to shout but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

“You left your door open.”

“I locked my door!”

“Yes, but you didn't pull it to.” There was a glint of amusement in his big bluish gray eyes.

“So you just walked right in.”

“You didn't look well. I was being neighborly and checking on you.” 

“Well, as you can see, I'm fine,” she said. She was going to add “And you can go home,” but the words stuck in her throat.

“You don't look fine,” he said. “To be honest, you look like you have a Vitamin D deficiency and you haven't slept properly in weeks.”

She wanted to say something sarcastic but words failed her. She was frozen by his appraising stare. His eyebrows seemed fierce, the way they pulled together, and the crease in the middle of his forehead was deep, but when she looked closely at him she saw no hostility or negativity. In fact, despite the sensitivity to another human being she'd developed from being alone for so long, she felt no negative vibe from this man at all. His expression was more of concern. She felt herself relaxing even though her mind told her not to let down her guard to a stranger standing uninvited in her living room.

“Have some tea?” she said instead, weakly.

“Only if I serve it. You are shaking so badly you'd spill it all before we could drink a drop.” Once again, there was a glint of amusement. He pushed past her into her kitchen. “Where are your teacups? Never mind, I'll find them. You sit down in that comfy chair. I'll take the couch.” He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument.

She felt her exhaustion of chronic insomnia weigh on her bones and it was easier just to let him take control. She sat down. “Why are you doing this? What's in it for you?”

“I don't want to have to report the death of a neighbor without having done something about it,” he said as he brought out her tea set. “I'm odd like that. By the way, when was the last time you ate anything?”

That was a good question. She didn't really remember. She hadn't really felt like eating lately.

“When is the last time you went food shopping? You hardly have anything.” She watched him bring out a microwaveable soup and stare at it in distaste before popping the top and putting it in the microwave. 

Minutes later he came out with tea and soup on a tray and put it on her coffee table. 

“So you're doing this to keep me alive,” she said. “And that's it.”

He stared at her. “Have you ever had a neighbor die in their house with nobody ever checking on them? Nobody knows until the body starts to rot. It's terribly unpleasant for everyone.” He stared at his teacup instead of looking at him. She wondered if he was actually speaking from experience or not. When he did look up his expression was challenging as he brought the tea to his lips.

“That's a great thing to tell me when I'm going to eat.”

He took as sip. “Doesn't matter. You're going to eat anyway.”

“So you'll force feed me?”

“No, YOU're going to eat.”

The soup did smell good and made her empty stomach growl. She picked up the spoon and took a taste. After a few moments she wound up eating the entire bowl full, sipping the last bit. She looked up and saw him watching her intently, his piercing blue eyes taking in every detail. She felt better and stronger physically but also self-conscious like she hadn't been before. She became acutely aware of how disheveled she was.

“For goodness sake, go take a shower,” he said. “You're starting to smell like death now.” His voice sounded annoyed but he raised an eyebrow and curled one side of his lips upward. She wondered if was just her he found vaguely amusing or the whole world. “Don't worry; I'll stay here until you're decent.”

She found herself doing as he requested, taking a shower, putting on a fresh t-shirt and loose linen draw-string pants. She pushed down the thought of this man joining her, and to her relief and a tiny bit of disappointment, he didn't.

She came back to the living room feeling better than she had in a long time and also very sleepy instead of just tired.

“Now go to bed,” the man said. “I'll see myself out.”

"Did you put something in the soup?" she asked.

"No. I'm afraid you had to eat it as the manufacturer intended. And no, I didn't put any drugs in it either. That would have been pointless. Now go to bed." He turned to leave.

“What is your name?” she blurted out, realizing at last that she did not know.

He turned around when he reached her door. "John Smith," he said. "Most people just call me the Doctor."

“Lisa,” she said. “Lisa-”

“Tell me later,” the Doctor said, raising a hand in dismissal. “I'll make sure the door is locked and shut this time.”

Lisa did as she was told and heard her front door close and her lock click before falling into a deep sleep.


	2. Another Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor shows up again

For days or perhaps weeks Lisa saw neither elegantly-clad hide nor gleaming silver hair of the Doctor. She'd peek out through her blinds at least once a day. She spent her time painting and drawing and reading, her usual habits, and tried to eat and sleep regularly, though she often forgot. She did, however, remember to lock her door.

One day she stepped out of her spare-room studio and found him standing in the hall. She nearly fainted.

"Where have you been?" she asked before she could think not to.

He smirked at her and crossed his arms. "Why would you ask that of someone you never spend time with?"

"I never heard your car," she lied.

"You listen for my car, then?"

"I...can't help but hear it," she countered.

"You watch for me." The Doctor's eyes sparkled. She wanted to punch him. And kiss him. And punch him again. She was glad to talk to him; she'd been worried she'd never see him again but she didn't want him to know that. "Strange, for someone who doesn't need anyone."

"I don't need anyone," she said.

"Oh, that's obvious," he replied. "You especially don't need a housekeeper." He was looking around at the dust bunnies all over her floor.

"I, uh, wasn't expecting company." For the first time she realized just how dirty her house was.

"Of course not," the Doctor said. "Are you capable of keeping house? Should I call you a maid service?"

"No!" she shouted and then turned red as a beet. Much more softly she added, "I'll, uh, clean." Not knowing what else to do, she went to her utility closet and pulled out her Swiffer and pads. She started cleaning her floor. When she looked up he'd left the room. From her studio she heard him say, "These are yours?"

She put aside the Swiffer and ran to the studio. "Please, I don't want people in..."

"They're good," he said. "The space scenes are surprisingly good, for someone planet-bound. 

Lisa felt herself going faint with embarrassment as he gazed at the painting she'd made of him, his arm crossed and the finger of his other hand to his mouth in appraisal. "Nice." This time he wasn't making fun of her. He sounded like he actually meant it. He turned back and stared at Lisa like he had never seen her before. "Well done."

"I...sell my paintings online. I don't make a lot but it supplements my income."

"You should get out more, have a show."

"I've done that virtually."

He smiled. It was a genuine smile and it dazzled her. It seemed to her he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, with his craggy face and big blue eyes. She had to remind herself that she hadn't been in close proximity of many men and her reactions were probably amplified because of her isolation.

"May I?" he asked, indicating that he'd like to go through the canvasses she had leaning against the wall.

She nodded assent. As she watched him file through her paintings, stopping to look at each space scene, her stomach roiled with nervousness. Having someone in her house looking at her work was nerve-wracking enough; having HIM here was even worse. He stopped when he came to an alien landscape she'd painted. He pulled it out for a closer look. His expression became deadly serious. "Where did you get the idea for this one?"

She jumped at his sharp tone. "A dream." She remembered the dream vividly. The sky and sand were orange and there was a glittering city of tall spires under a giant snow globe in the distance. "I thought it was so beautiful I sketched it when I woke up. I painted it several times before I was happy with it. Do...do you like it?"

The Doctor took a blue tube out of his pocket and pointed it at her. It lit up and made a strange noise. "Human," he said, almost accusatorially. Still..." He started searching her room.

"Hey," she said weakly. "I didn't give you permission..."

He went through her house, rummaging through drawers. "Hey, stop! Stop now! It's MY house! Please, before I call the..." She felt panic rise up and leak from her eyes in the form of tears.

He found her grandfather's old fob watch and opened it, staring her dead in the eye. When nothing happened he looked down. "It's just a watch."

"Doctor, I don't appreciate people rummaging through my things! I appreciate the fact that you fed me and you like my paintings, but this is too much. I'm going to have to ask you to..."

"I apologize," the Doctor said, looking truly contrite. "I...I suppose this is hard to explain." He finally noticed Lisa was crying. "Hey, it's ok, it's ok, I'm sorry. I just...I had to be sure." He reached out a hand and rested it on her arm. She suddenly felt surprisingly calm, like a sense of calm suddenly literally entered her mind.

She looked up at him. "Who are you? Why did you get so upset about my dreamscape?"

"Because it's not just a dreamscape," the Doctor answered. "It's real."


	3. Abrupt departure

"You mean, there's a real snow globe city in the desert? And what does all this have to do with my granddad's old fob watch?"   
Lisa and the Doctor were sitting at the kitchen table and Lisa had just brewed two cups of coffee. The Doctor was raising his to his lips when his phone vibrated. He looked down at it and swiped the screen. "I'm sorry, we'll do this later. Emergency." He got up from the table and ran down the hall faster than she imagined a man his age could.  
"One of your patients?" she asked as he opened her front door. 

"No. Later." He closed the door and ran across the street. She saw him pull out the blue tube again and point it at her house. Her front door's lock clicked; so did her deadbolt. She jumped back and stared at her locks. After a moment she looked up again, but the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. Who was this man who had a tube that could lock doors and scan humans? It dawned on her for the first time that he may not have been a real doctor or even human, and she felt kind of slow for not figuring it out before. He looked human; he was handsome and made her stomach do flips like very few had ever done before. She'd have to ask when he returned.

If he returned.

He did say "Later," but that didn't always mean a return visit. 

Here she was, overanalyzing again. It would be best if she just did something instead of thinking. She walked back into her studio and stretched a fresh canvas. She'd paint him and that blue tube as well as she could remember it. Her mind wasn't going to be off of him no matter what she did; she might as well take advantage of the fact.


	4. The sketch

Lisa worked for hours on her new painting, sketching, painting, applying Gesso and starting over. She was never quite satisfied with the results; she wanted to capture exactly what she saw in the Doctor's face. 

She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she heard his voice. She looked up to see that face hovering over her. "Lisa! Did you draw that?" He sounded panicked, almost angry, pointing at the canvas.

"I-I tried, I'm sorry I..." She glanced at her canvas and then stared. It wasn't anything like what she'd meant to paint at all. It wasn't a face; it looked like the inner workings of a clock or watch. There were a series of these sketches on the canvas, each different from the last, and enclosed in a circle. "What? I don't remember drawing that!' 

The Doctor picked up the canvas and tucked it under his arm. "I'm afraid this and you are going to have to come with me." He strode out of her studio, his long legs carrying him swiftly into the hall. She had to hurry to catch up with him. "I don't mind coming with you, but could you tell me what this is all about?"

He opened the door and looked back at her. "I can't leave you here. I'm afraid you're in danger."


End file.
